Monday, November 14, 2011

The Depressed Friend

The Dogtor, a man of rational ideas and a fan of word economy, will occasionally surprise me with whimsy.

Me: How is Djuna?Dogtor: Our depressed friend?Me: What you mean "our depressed friend?"Dogtor: Well - look at it this way. She doesn't leave the coop. She sleeps all day and eats in bed.Me: She doesn't like the cold.Dogtor: It's gross to eat in bed.Me: Yeah.Dogtor: Sometimes I toss her out of the coop and onto a goat.

This is the Dogtor's cure for depression: have someone rip you out of bed and throw you on a goat. Works every time.

Or not at all. Djuna hasn't moved from her coop in days (sort of like her namesake, stewing in a little apartment in Patchin Place in the Village). We used to think she was eggbound when she did this, but she's just a little broody hen who may be writing dark poetry on the walls of the coop when no one is watching.

About Me

After 30 years of southern living, I moved to Vermont with a new baby, veterinarian husband, five dogs, four cats, two goats, and a horse. Game on.
Mentioned: VT Life, Food, Reading, Southern Nostalgia